Fight And Flight
by Walker of the shattered tundra
Summary: Carus Greyling always heard people say that 'Fight or flight was the most basic instinct, nobody is immune' What a farse. Those fools didn't have massive wings on their backs did they? Join Carus' adventures in screwing with the continuity/cannon of the show in a way that won't break the lore. "What do you mean we have to be on teams!" Mild AU to fit in a nomadic sub-culture.
1. A prologue of sorts

DISCLAIMER: I don't own RWBY. Big surprise there eh? All rights go to Rooster Teeth.

Edit(1/3/2019) Yeah just one day after I first posted. Fixed a few typos and some missing dialogue. Doubtless more will be found by readers so if you see one point it out for me and I'll see about fixing it.

* * *

In the middle of a small forest somewhere in the lands 'held' by Vale, a writhing mass of energy forms. Sparks and electrify spew from it, as sigils and glyphs of a mystical nature form chains that break along the seams. A humanoid shape forms in the chaotic mass.

*POP* The shape slumps to the ground.

The energy retreats, a small tear lingering long enough for several voices to be heard. "Oh shit!" "It worked? Wow" "Is it closing?" "oh no…"

A man blinks himself awake, no idea where he is. And in the end, it won't matter how he got there. All he could remember was something about fanfictions, tequila, esoteric multi-verse portals, and a Doctor Who marathon. Whoever said nerds didn't know how to party was probably right. The nausea would otherwise seem to confirm that.

So, where was he? Standing up he glances around. Trees to the right. A forest. He glances left. Well considering there was a Beowolf about thirty feet over in the distance, it was a safe assumption that this poor sod was the victim of a hole between dimensions. The young man looks all around him taking the sights of this little forest he seems to be in. Green trees, neither maple or oak, but something between?

Wait, what was that last part? Hold the thrice dammed phone. Was that A BEOWOLF?!

"Shiiiiiit!" a baritone voice squeals, cracking in terror. The things are much more menacing in real life it seems. Ears flicker toward the sound, locating the interloper.

"At least it's not the woods from the initiation… trees aren't the same." He mutters, eyes widening as a massive headache hits him. He winces, shaking his head back and forth, as if to stir from some kind of terrible, terrible waking dream.

The man stands at a rather sturdy 6 feet ought in height. However, his chances of running from certain death are as slim as he isn't. No normal person can take down a Grimm without a big-ass gun and a wall between them. But up close? He's a goner.

Before he can even think about how he really, really should have listened to his mother and went on that diet, the Beowolf sniffs the air. With a low growl, it howls. Several other howls reply from far too close. Drawing up low to the ground it slinks closer.

"Am I gonna die?" he breathes, dark brown eyes widening at the sight of the murder beast before him. Sub-par fodder to a trained huntsman, even one in training can handle such a monster with ease. But a fat, terrified nerd in chainmail… wait chainmail?! The hell is that going to do? More to the point, WHY DOES HE HAVE CHAINMAIL?!

'If only I could figure out what's going on' he ponders as if he stood a chance, mind racing in full-tilt survival mode. 'Should I take a stance? Hope I can scare it off? How would I even fight this?'

On one hand this is the worst possible outcome being what amounts to a death-world. Wherein normal people need to be protected by super-human (and Fuanus) warriors. On the other hand, being here in what can only be RWBY, is as dream come true. Afore mentioned super powers, super-hot babes…

Then again, seeing a Beowolf face to face, without Aura, or even any weapons… wait a dam second!

Son of a Bitch! Why does he have a Katar? "I don't even know how to use this thing!" He screams to the heavens with a bellow that could be heard for several hundred feet of dense woodland. What the… He has TWO Katars?! WHY?! Is Qrow nearby or some shit? Why is his luck this bad?! "Would whatever Deity I pissed off please let me leave?" He winces out. By this time, he is completely panicking.

He starts to backpedal away from the were-wolves shadow powered kin. "This is a ter…?!"

Whatever utterances were to be said, whichever platitudes to whatever being was listening are now moot. A second Beowolf which had heard his yell, and moved in behind him pounces, quickly overwhelming the normal person who had no place to even think they possibly stood a chance without an Aura, let alone without having the God-Tier defense of plot armor.

But what about his armor, an invisible viewer from behind a screen might ask? That chainmail, sure it looked cool, but since when has that done anything to protect someone? Not to mention it was fake. What kind of nerd could afford real chainmail? True some could, but alas, not this one.

He frantically struggles, flailing and slashing about, even managing to cut a surface wound upon the beast's chest. Red baleful eyes peer down upon him, oozing contempt for the mortal fool below them, before a pitch-dark maw descends.

A final, piercing shriek of terror, rings into the woodland around before the sound of rapid feet approaching from all around.

*crunch*

*crunch*

*splorch*

Flesh was rent, bones were shattered and broken. Metal was bent, chewed and discarded in favor of the organs below. Soon nothing but a bloodstained patch of disturbed earth is all that remains of this nameless fool.

* * *

 _NEARBY, Camp of Vetus Rubigo, Veteran Huntsman_

A sneeze echoes around the clearing. Black vaper swirls around the area, revealing the bodies of nearly two dozen dissipating Beowolves, at least four ursa, and three upright figures. A breeze shifts, carrying with it the scent of fresh blood, and one of them growls in pleasure. As the area clears we see an Alpha Beowolf, bleached white bone sprouting from its arms.

They are coated with it, the pitted and scarred armor of an aged monstrosity. Standing at least nine feet tall the plating extends all the way up to its shoulders, sloping around it's forearms to create a false image of a crude gauntlet. The ragged edges of its foot-long claws crusted with old blood stains. The bone mask upon its face can scarce be called such, being more of a crest than anything, adding another foot to the already large stature it processes. Its body heaves with exertion, as do the other figures now revealed.

"You okay old man?" one of them asks toward the other, head inclined towards an older man. "I'm fine lad, just felt like we may have missed something of negligible importance." Vetus replies.

The aged huntsman's face is lined with wrinkles, and weather worn to the point of looking like the leather on a belt. A poorly done salt-and-pepper gray combover flops about in the wind, as eyes of yellow track the Alpha. They are blood-shot, and the whites are also yellow, but that of a chronic smoker. All eight of them, that is to say.

It would be no surprise then, that an ornate ivory pipe hangs from his mouth, a trail of smoke rising into the late evening sky. His once pristine char-coal black suit is ruffled slightly, and his tie, also yellow, is loosened waving about. A simple looking short hafted axe with a with a squared edge rests slung over one shoulder, more of a cleaver than anything else.

He puffs a bit, rotating the pipe over to the other side, as three of his left eyes track over to the other figure in this camp wreckage. Hovering over the shredded remnants of one of the tents is his apprentice, flapping his enormous six-foot-long wings to steady himself.

A rich brown in color, with hints of bronze and gold along the edges of the feathers, they buffet the Beowolf with a sharp blast of wind. Amplified by wind Dust, cuts appear all over the unarmored portions of its coat, most being only superficial. The beast's eyes narrow, and it lowers its center of gravity, launching itself at its winged foe. Talons clash with Aura re-enforced steel as twinned hook swords block the attack.

Rage and hate filled red slits stare into golden orbs.

"HA!" With a grunt of exertion, a booted foot juts out crashing into the face of the Grimm ending the struggle for dominance. It sends the beast sailing backwards. Dust (the kind from barren cracked earth that hasn't seen rain in about two weeks or so, not the physics breaking kind) rolls as the Grimm claws itself from the ground only for it to see an axe descending towards its head. With a muted thud the honed edge sinks deep into the mask striking the equivalent of the frontal lobe, killing it instantly.

Pulling the axe from the skull, Vetus nods at his student. "Well done young Carus. Your Dust manipulation has improved, and you managed to hold an Alpha Beowolf back without difficulty."

"I wouldn't say that, it was rather strong. But still little more than a warm up." The eagle Fuanus replies. He shrugs, his right shoulder clicking a few times. He cuts his levitation, and folds his wings up behind his back, compressing them to about the size of a large hiking bag. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a scroll, scanning over his Aura readings.

'Holding steady at around 92 %, huh? Looks like I'm really getting the hang of the dual nature of my semblance then.' He puts the device back in his pocket.

They both look around at the wreckage of the campsite, one tent shredded and useless, the other trampled into the dirt. All the cookery is scattered about all over the site and the embers from the firepit have started a small little blaze in the grass.

Yelping Vetus begins stamping out the fire, grabbing his canteen and dumping atop the it as well. Carus starts chuckling at the sight.

"What's so funny?! How about you stop laughing and help me put this out!" Carus continues to laugh only to point at the pantlegs of his mentor's slacks, now coated with ash and mud.

"Brothers be dammed." he grunts out. Moving over to the only camp chair miraculously still upright, let alone intact he slumps into it. Sighing, Vetus pulls up the left leg revealing a mechanical limb, the joints showing age with a light dusting of tarnish. Even Dust-forged iron will still rust after nearly seven years of constant misuse.

"Bring me the can of lubricant oil, will ya lad?" he mutters. Looking at the new layer of grime on the ankles he makes up his mind. He'll tell the boy now, 'Better that he hears it while I'm still kicking.' He thinks, mulling it all over.

"Here" Carus says throwing the can over. A hand grabs it from the air and then starts dripping the liquid into the now creaking joint. Carus scans around, not seeing any other place to sit, decides well, why not then? He settles cross legged onto the grass. Taking in a deep breathe centering his mind. Steadily he rises into the air and levels out about three feet of the ground and reclines in the winds. As if on a couch he puts his hands behind his head.

Vetus finishes his task and looks back at his pupil. "I won't put this off any longer lad. I've something to tell you." "Too old fight now is it then, eh mentor?" Carus jokes, his eyes closed. He doesn't see the stricken look upon the old man's face at his words.

"Well lad your close to the money, but no cigar yet. I am getting up there in years and I can't keep this up for that much longer. I'm retiring from active duty." Carus' eyes pop open, his feet hitting the ground rapidly.

"What?! You can't retire yet! I still have three years left in this apprenticeship." He belts out. "Out of the seven we agreed to, if I don't finish it out, I can't get my huntsman's license. What am I supposed to do then?" His eyes alight, wings flaring behind him.

"Sit your sorry ass down, you hot-headed young fool. I wasn't done speaking." Carus breathes. Once, twice and relaxes. He slumps down back into the dirt, not bothering with hovering anymore. He glances back at his teacher waiting for him to explain.

"If your done with your hissy-fit," Vetus glares, "I called in a favor for you. With your training I have covered combat, tactics, wilderness survival and even some of the theories surrounding the Grimm in your education. What I have lacked to give you was book learning, so I sent word over to one of the academes in Vale. Ol' Ozpin had a bet he lost to me once, good for one favor, no questions asked."

"How did you manage that?" "Never once in the years we have trained together, have you asked how old I am."

"Well what does that have to do with anything?" Carus asks, thin eyebrows arching upwards. "Who do you think trained that guy, eh lad?" Carus jaw drops at this revelation. "That would make you like…" He starts counting out on his fingers.

"I am one hundred and seven years old lad. But no, I didn't actually train Ozpin." He chuckles, "No, I just happen to know the man, and you have talent that would be wasted in a lesser school. On top of that, you have a dual-natured Semblance. Those, while not rare, are quite uncommon. They can help you continue to master it at Beacon."

"When do they start? I'd have thought that the admissions department were already done with sifting through the transcripts?" Carus asked. "While normally that'd be the case," Vetus replied, "You have already shown promise without question, that being proven in my recommendation letter. I included in it a bit of general info about you boy, as well as details about your fighting style, Semblance, and your medical records."

"When did you do that? The hell haven't I noticed any of this?" Carus start pacing in front of the now revealed, not merely old, but rather ancient Huntsman. His wings shift about on his back, a visible sign of his confusion and discomfort.

All eight of Vetus' eyes roll at his pupil's blatant ignorance. He takes a pull on his pipe, exhaling the smoke slowly, forming a ring, followed by a smaller one that sails through the larger one. "The last time we were in a town, what did I have you do? Think about it." "Uhhhh…" Carus starts, thinking back about a week "Get preserved foods, and buy ammo while you rented a room at the inn, then you had me take a delivery to the…" He trails off realization dawning in his eyes. "I had you deliver a parcel to the Post station. Bet you thought it was only bounty confirmations, eh? No, there were a few letters included in that stack, one of which went to your folks."

"So, they know what's up then? They know I'm going to the city? How do you even manage getting a letter to the Greylings' nomad tribe?" The many eyes of Vetus twinkle. "I have my ways lad. With luck, over your tenure in the city you'll pick up a few yer'self. Now then, how about you GET THAT FIRE STARTED BACK UP!" He roars at the idle boy, nay, the young man before him. "I'M GETTING COLD!"

Carus scrambles up from his sitting position, bowing once and starts looking around for one of the travel bags that have the tinderbox in it, or at least some of the old coot's pipe matches. "And if I catch you using my matches again, you'll be cleaning my rusty, slimy, old leg for the rest of the trip back to the city!"

A tedious search, and a dash of tinder-wood later, a small cheery little fire rests in the reassembled circle of rocks. "Hope you don't mind sleeping under the stars tonight lad, I'm taking the tent."

"But it's barely even sundown, and shouldn't we put up sound traps?" Carus asks. When silence is all the response he gets he looks back over at the tent. Wasn't it just a pile on the ground a few seconds ago? A metal foot-shaped lump of iron, and a scuffed shoe poking out of the tent are his only answer. It would seem that he must do it himself. Again.

* * *

 _VALE, Beacon Academy, the Headmasters office_

Strewn across a large desk are several packets of paper. Each one of them detailing the story and skills of a potential huntsman or huntress. Each one of them barely even an adult, yet willing to lay down their life for the common folks. Such a world that has been made, and such the games that are played.

Ozpin looks over all of them, wondering how many will even live to see twenty-five, let alone live to old age, or see themselves with children. Many of them stand out, others not so much. Some with true talent, others that rely on skill more than natural ability.

He sighs, bringing up a coffee mug to his lips. Only a few more to look over before the final tally is done. If that Juane boy can get transcripts forged that well then perhaps his cunning could get him far. There is more than one type of huntsman after all. Or perhaps it would doom his entire team to an early demise. Hmm. Perhaps after the seventh cup was when his mind started to wander some. All the same perhaps a refill sounds good now.

Getting up from his seat and walking over to the small percolator hidden over by the elevator doors, he sees a transcript which had fallen to the floor. Setting the mug down he looks over it. Ah yes, Vetus' apprentice. One last look couldn't hurt, and besides that it seems it had fallen out of the accepted's tray. One wonders what could have happened without its presence there. The total downfall of the world, perhaps? Ozpin shakes his head. Perhaps it would be a good time to turn in for the night, after reviewing it

Name: Carus Greyling

Race: Fuanus, Golden Eagle Sex: Male Age:18

Eye color: Gold Hair color: Brown W/ Gold-Yellow highlights

Weight: 180 lbs. Height: 6' 3 Blood Type: A-

Aura Strength Level: 8/10 Aura Manipulation Skill lv. [derived]: 4/15

Handedness: Ambidextrous

Physical Strength: B-

Speed: C (B with flight or Semblance being used)

Agility: B+ (A with flight utilization)

Durability [derived, merged old scaling systems of Defense and Endurance]: B-

Tactical mind: A

Semblance: Personal and remote (see X-Factor) levitation

X factor: A- (Carus processes a unique type of Semblance, that being one of a dual nature. He can levitate and can cause others near him to do the same. Little control is had over the levitation of others but given his ability to fly on his own this can be used for superior elevational approaches. He can hold them {similar to telekinesis} and then fly somewhere else with them. This hold is not easy to break but someone {or something} can get loose with some effort. Evacuating a fallen comrade with such a skill is extremely useful, should it come to that. Carus also holds whatever secrets that have been passed down the Greylings' lineage.)

Where there would normally be a questionnaire filled out by the applicant is a letter of recommendation by the young mans mentor. As he turns the second to last page Ozpin notices a rip along the small staple holding the packet together. It seems that a page is missing. Across the bottom of the last page is a large red stamp which reads 'ACCEPTED' in large lettering. Ozpin blinks. No bio page? How odd. Never mind that with another student he no longer has a year's class that is divisible by four. 'Maybe one of them will die during initiation?' Ozpin blinks yet once more. Far too many morbid thoughts tonight. He looks down at his coffee. He doesn't even remember filling up this cup. Shaking his head, he sets it down once more. It truly is time for bed.

* * *

 _The following day, En route to Vale_

"Come on then lad! Hurry up. The tent doesn't weight that much, and neither do I!" Carus glares down at his mentor. The old spider was making him, what did he call it? Oh yeah exercise his semblance. 'What a pile of horseshit!' "You know I could just drop you, don't you?" He yells down at him, the golden energy surrounding the man and the camping gear wavering for just a second. Eight yellowed eyes stare right back at him.

"And if you did, you'd lose the map too." 'I hate it when the old man is right.'

"Well since you have the map then how far are we till we hit the city boarders?" "That is a great question I should check that." Vetus reaches into a pocket on the inside of his waistcoat and pulls out the map, unfolding it in the process. The reality of this situation lasts for about five seconds before the wind pulls the map from his grip. "SHIT!"

Carus lets out another grunt, wings straining to flap enough in leu of any thermals to drift on, and snags the map with his semblance at the last second. "You're welcome."

Grumbling at his little lapse in judgment, Vetus looks over the map. Squinting with 5 eyes he seems confused. With a 90-degree rotation he lets out a confirmatory grunt. "Veer left 20 degrees, and we should be there in around a half an hour. Seems we were a lot closer than I'd thought before."

The rest of the flight passes without event. Looking around Carus manages to find an air-field not to far past the walls. Setting down at an air pad that seems to be designed with flight capable Fuanus in mind, the two huntsmen begin walking towards the shopping district. "Why are we heading this way again?" Carus asks. "Ye need new clothes and yer uniform fitted lad." Vetus exclaims over his shoulder. Carus looks down at his ragged gear. A long time past it could have been called a tunic and leg wraps with greaves and armored boots. No longer. "Not to mention you could use some new armor."

At that Carus perks up some, feathers audibly rustling. "Last time we did that it cost a lot of Lien to get it fitted for my wings. You sure you wanna do that? Besides I grew out of it in like three months." Vetus starts to chuckle. "Remember that Alpha we killed? There was a bounty on that one, good for two thousand, plus the funds I had wired to the bank here last month. Besides you should be done growing by now." He mumbles out "At least I hope so, brothers be praised, but you grow like a weed lad."

Vetus reaches down into a satchel he carries on his waist and pulls out some modified sunglasses. (Last person that called it a fanny-pack got put six feet under. Yet being a huntress herself she came out laughing.) He slides the shades onto his scarred nose, fully covering all his eyes with the opaque lenses. "Not what I was looking for but still works." He reaches back in again and pulls out a billfold. Tossing it to Carus he says "Careful where you go to. Vale can be, shall we say, 'picky' about their clientele." making air quotes with his fingers.

"You mean racist?" "Yes, I mean racist lad. Why do you think I broke out the face-plates? Can't be too careful, banks tend to be over zealous. EVEN if you're a huntsman it seems." As Vetus starts walking off towards the financial district he calls back, "And if somebody tries to mug you, don't go tribal on them eh? They have a decent police force here, so no chopping off anyones hands!"

Carus laughs out loud at that. The scrawny, ragged looking man behind him, suddenly decides that maybe he best try his luck elsewhere. Carus checks the contents of the fold. "Nice." He glances back at his wings. Racists are allowed to discriminate here then? "Maybe I should get a nice, big backpack. To carry all of my stuff of course."

* * *

As it turns out finding armor shops wasn't hard at all. Finding ones that openly served Fuanus? Slightly more difficult, but not unreasonable. Getting pants, and his greaves/boots combo detailed and repaired was a cinch in fact. But locating an outfitter that can cater to winged customers was. Getting. On. His! NERVES! "Seven blasted stores and still piss all! Mind that last one was fine but still. Eight G's for a dammed gambeson? That's just a bunch of shirts layered over each other." Carus grumbled. Never mind that he still needs to get the uniform fitted. At least the school will reimburse you for that if you pass initiation, or the store will let you return it with their "MONEY BACK GUARANTEE!" If you don't die during it anyway.

At least he doesn't need to buy ammo. That shit gets expensive. No, his twined meca-shift hook blades are all that he needs. Turning down yet another side street, he sees another armor store. Looking up at the sign he gives it a read. 'The Winged Hussars' eh? Sounds good so far. Entering the store, a little bell rings being attached to the door frame. Some intense metal music plays over speakers set up in the ceiling. A voice calls out from the back "GivemeabitI'llbewithyoushortlike." Several cusses, two crashes and a… (was that a cymbal?) some strange sound later, a short vibrantly green being buzzes into focus. "NicetomeetyakidnamesNexGreenIownthisfinestorewhatcanIhelpyouwith?" Carus blinks, trying to sort the onslaught of words just spewed forth by what can only be a hummingbird Fuanus.

Good thing he has a cousin like that back in the tribe or else this would be torture. The little man has a six-pack of 'people like grapes' soda, half gone, in one hand and a sewing kit in the other. Carus lets out a breath. "I am Carus Greyling. Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Green. I need some armor and I need it fitted over my wings." The bird looks at him with joy for a fraction of a second, then confusion. "WhileI'mgladyoucanunderstandmekidreallygladinfactIdon'tseeanywingsTheyhideninthatbagorsomething ?" Sorting out the words between the blurred drinking of an entire can of the soda, Carus remembers he had actually manged to get a bag modified at the last store before this one. 'I must look so stupid, I forgot to take the bag off.' Carus reaches around to his back and the heavy-looking bag over-top his wings. "Gimme a bit."

The hummingbird fidgets restlessly as Carus carefully pulls his wings from the bag, more worried about ripping it than hurting himself. "NicewingspamyougottherekidWhatsthatlikefortteenoverall? NomorethanthatwellyoujustwaitrightthereI'vegotstuffthatshouldbefineforyou." With a blur yet another empty can flys away from said blur. Soon several suits appear before him. Carus grins." I can work with this."

As he walks away from the store fully kitted out Carus grins back at Nex. "I'll be sure to let the clan know about this place next letter I send back. Expect more business in about half a years' time! That's when the lot of them should be passing by on the circuit." A rapid wave meets his farewell. "Youbringmemoresaleskidandifthathuntsmanthingdoesn'tworkoutI'llsaveajobforyouhere!" Carus lets out a real belly laugh and bows to the frantic caffeine addict. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. See you when next we meet Mr. Green."

All in all, that turned out rather swimmingly. Carus shifts about getting a feel for the new weight on his shoulders. A used, but sturdy set of linked multi-layered pauldrons made of a composite material cover both shoulders. There is a high collar guarding the back of his neck and upper back without limiting vision or neck movement. The gear is asymmetrical with the left side a bit more like a spaulder, being smaller and covering less of his upper arm. With plain vambraces covering his arms he feels much more protected. Carus snorts. 'Feels protected. Yeah, like that ever does anything.' His greaves still sit upon his thighs overtop a pair of light gray cargo pants. The fabric bunches a little where he tucked it into his boots but that's no big deal.

A black turtleneck completes his current attire, but he also got some other clothes tailored to fit his unique physiology including two sets of the Beacon uniform. Seems that it is a standard stock item for huntsman type stores. Go figure. With everything accounted for that he needed Carus pulls out his scroll and calls his mentor.

"Yeah?" Loud EDM music can be heard from the background and a strobe sequence can be seen behind the wrinkled face of Vetus. "I got my stuff…" Carus trails off looking at the scene behind the weathered face. "Are you in a club? Is that what a club looks like?" "No, I'm not in a club." Carus' face deadpans. "Okay yeah, I'm in a club, but its owned by an info broker. I need his services to send your letters back to your kin lad. I'll send you directions, you need to relax a bit. Besides you got like a week before classes. I think…"

Carus can't believe his eyes. His mentor is drunk. Oh, by the Brothers, this is bad. He's not just buzzed either, he looks a few sheets to the wind here. "I'm on my way, old one. Try not to destroy the place, okay?" The shades slide off his face somewhat, reviling a few eyes and a grin. "No promises lad."

* * *

A/N: Did I just throw my OCs into the yellow trailer? Who can say? I will. And the answer is yes, yes I did. Now the question lies here. What happens now? Find out next time on 'Fight And Flight'!

If you liked the story consider dropping a follow, eh folks? If you want to offer criticism or feedback drop a review. Till next I post (inconsistently probably) this was the guy with a long user name saying "Drink more coffee. It's AWESOME!"


	2. The (almost) Trial of Alcohol

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Big surprise, eh?

* * *

Vetus stares down into the bottom of his glass, watching the ice cubes clinking about. The kid is way too easy to mess with. Carus, the daft, naïve, clueless fool had thought him drunk. It would take far more than just two shots to even get him buzzed. Not that the kid knew but that's the fun part. Now if only the music didn't suck so much…

He raises his hand and motions to the barkeep. "Another if you will. And try to find something stronger, eh?" The man in a black suit looks down at what he was about to pour, then looks back at this balding old man in front of him. "Uh, you a hunter? Only way I can legally serve that stuff." Vetus blinks and looks down the counter. One random guy is lying there passed out, another has several lines of white powder in front of him. He pulls his shades off entirely, folding them up and putting them back into his satchel. Eight dark eyes turn back to the guy in the tacky red-themed suit. "If I had eyebrows one of them would be raised in a question right about now."

Both of them start laughing. Reaching down under the counter the bartender pulls out a clear bottle with a murky green liquid in it. It glows slightly even with the strobes flickering all over the place. Putting a glass tankard on the counter he measures out three fingers of the glowing alcohol, and then fills the rest with vodka. "Bottoms up old man." Vetus looks at the drink. 'Is this supposed to glow?' He shrugs figuring it must have been Dust brewed liquor.

Sipping the off-colored drink Vetus looks back over into the dance floor. People part as a tall figure walks across the floor. Wearing the same suit as the rest of his gang minus the jacket, Hei 'Junior' Xiong is a giant of a man, but nowhere near as large as his father once was. Vetus thinks back to the old days, reminiscing about simpler times, and old acquaintances. And all the favors he might need to call in to mail off this dammed letter. You'd think at least one person in the whole tribe would have a scroll but nooo. Not a one. Only reason Carus even has one is because he bought for him. But back to the matter at hand.

Vetus winces. He told the young man that'd he'd sent the letters to his tribe. But as it would seem he had actually forgotten to put the bundle in with the rest of the stack he sent off. More like he only sent the update on where they were and the other usual. Now it seems he needs to send the info that Carus will be finishing his certification at an academy rather than in the field. His folks won't like it but when they learn why… 'I still can't believe it. This is what is going to kill me.'

"What did you want Widower?" Hei stands loosely and his bat is on a bandolier across his back. Hei pulls his own shades, red, off and puts them in a pocket on his waist coat. He stands loosely but is ill at ease. It's not every day a blast from the far, far past blows in. "What I can't drop in and visit my god-son whenever I want? DO I even need reason? And don't call me that, those days are gone decades ago." Junior sits down beside him at the counter. "No, you don't need a reason, but you usually have one. So, what do you want?" Vetus sighs, and then reaches into an inner pocket on his jacket, pulling out a few parcels. He smacks them down on the counter and grabbing the attention of the bartender again he then motions over to the powder snorting guy. "Gimme some of that but with Dust. Ice white mix." Hei picks up the letters and glances at the address. Or rather the lack of one.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" "Send them, what else." Vetus snorts. The Bartender returns with a small phial of blue-hued white Dust and tosses it to the spider Fuanus. As Vetus pulls out the stopper and measures out a line of the Dust Hei looks over the letters a little more carefully. "Greying tribe?" he mutters, "Well good thing is, is that I know where this tribe is Widower. Won't even cost you anything to send it either. Bad news is you can't send mail to the dead." Vetus halfway down the line snorts then starts coughing, Dust going everywhere. When he turns his head over to look at Hei his eyes are glowing white from the dust, but that does little to dissuade the look of incredulousness upon it. "Dead?!" he chokes out. He smacks his self on the chest trying to clear his lungs.

"Yeah, dead." Hei confirms. "And before you ask how I'll tell you what I know. we both know that tribes a mixed basket in all senses of the word. Fuanus, Humans, Huntsman retirees, a few craftsmen, even the odd outlaw from the kingdoms, whatever." Vetus nods rubbing his chest, the Dust cleared from his lungs. He drains the rest of his drink. Seems like he's gonna need it. Hei pauses watching him down the weird cocktail, then continues, "Well the White Fang didn't know that. They knew it had plenty of flyers though." Vetus' eyes narrow. "They send in a 'Recruitment squad' then?" Hei nods. "Real aggressive bunch no less. You can guess what happened from there." Vetus thinks it over. He can guess what went down. 'White fang don't like humans, let alone those that can live with'em in peace. How the hell do I explain _this_ to the lad?' Still optimism is a virtue.

"Any survivors at all? I know those folks had plenty of decent fighters." Hei shakes his head. "Way I hear it went down they didn't like that the Chief had a human wife at all. Started a ruckus and then Grimm swarmed the whole camp. If anyone could survive that the Greylings would, but nobodies seen that particular clan or the Fang that went there since."

Vetus grunts. He must be getting senile in his age on top of everything else. Of course, the group that got attacked wouldn't be seen for a while. They're likely to have went to join back up with another clan group to recover. Still that throws a blood-splattered wrench into his plans. "Shit"

Vetus slumps down on the stool, going over a few things in his head. Hei grimaces 'What the hell? I've seen the old man this down. Or down at all ever for that matter.' "Something else bugging you Widower?" Several bloodshot eyes turn towards him. The glare dies down as the light in them seems to dim. "I told you not to call me that." Before anything else could be said a runner approaches the pair. "You got another guest boss. It's that Torchwick guy." Hei sighs. "I need to take this Vetus." The old spider raises a non-existent brow. More important than him? "He really is making waves then?" "You've no idea. I can try to make this quick."

Several minutes pass, over the course of which Vetus looks over this 'Torchwick' character. He's not impressed in the slightest. 'Looks like a man-whore. No, too much eyeliner even for one of them. The suits nice though, same with the hat. Ties the whole thing together. Don't get the cane. Seems pointless.' As he inspects this wannabe a few of Hei's punchers sit down next to him. Twins. One in teal and white, the other red and black. Frilly dresses and snobby attitudes. In other words, teenagers. A small shudder runs through him at the thought. Carus was never like that. Living outside the kingdom's will at least teach you some respect for the old. They ignore him entirely, but that's to be expected. I mean why in the Brothers' green Remnant would they even look at a soon to be drunk, balding old man that's muttering to himself.

The walking Guy-Liner advertisement seems slightly annoyed that Junior is trying to hurry this along as much as he is. After a few minutes of what look like deliberation Hei returns to the countertop. "Sorry about that. He needed a few extra hands for a job. A little, shall we say, acquisition of sorts." Vetus grunts. "What does he have a monopoly in the red-light zone that he doesn't need any help running the corners?" The one in white snorts, giggling a bit. Hei jerks his head, and they leave giggling the while. "Now what else is on your mind?" Vetus lets on out a breath through his teeth. "I will be blunt with this Hei. I'm dying."

The music in the background seems to shift as this statement would appear to have cut into the mood like a skipping record player. "I've got Cancer Hei. Fucking Cancer! Of all the shit I've been through in my life, and as long as I've lived it had to be cancer that would put me out." Junior is shocked. His jaw drops, and his brain seems to lag behind a bit, "What?" Vetus laughs at his dumbstruck look. "Stage three, and it's in my guts. Feking nodes everywhere, stomach, liver, gallbladder, and so on." Hei look around baffled at this turnover of events. "Why are you telling me?" Vetus laughs again, more of an aching wheeze it seems now. He reaches back into his jacket again and pulls out a different document. The paper is new, fancy, and it is three pages long, held together by a lone staple. "My will. My last testament, whatever you wanna call it. Take it." He holds it out toward the giant. As Junior takes the papers it is a solemn moment. "I'm gonna make the holder of my estate. To be fair I've no idea how any of this legal shite works, but I think you'll like what you see on that parchment." Hei's eyes widen as he reads over the document. "You mean? Really!?" Vetus grins. "Oh yeah. And if my kid apprentice shows up have your boys let him in then, will you? He's got a bit of a temper."

* * *

Carus stands alone. He is the middle of a sidewalk in the industrial district of Vale. He looks left, then right. His wings are starting to chafe in the bag. He's been looking for around twenty minutes. And still nothing. Finally, he lets out a bellow of frustration. "I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE CLUB IS!" A loud rumble draws his attention over to road beside him. A yellow motorcycle zooms past, kicking up refuse and other detritus from the curbside. A newspaper fly's up and smacks Carus in the face. It's soggy and the smell on it is not water. Pulling it off his face he flings it to the ground. "Oi! Get back here you jackass!"

Never let it be said that he has the patience of a saint. Far from it in fact. Add that to his current frustration and you have a combo for trouble. 'Yeah, Nope! That jackass is gonna pay for that. My mentor is drunk (potentially) and I have no idea where he is. That is just asking for me to bail him out of jail again. Never mind that he said that Vale is racist to Fuanus, so they might just lock me up too just because of that. I need to release some aggression, and some inconsiderate fool will be more than suffice!'

Internal dialogue over he looks over to where the cycle seems to be going. He grins savagely as the bike seems to have stopped around a half mile down the road. One could say he also got the eyes of an Eagle as well. Pulling the bag off his shoulder careful not to strain his wings in the process, he settles in in his arms. Feathers ruffle in the air as he stretches out the extra bits given to him by his heritage. Aura and training aside, it was still entirely possible to injure his wings through the dumbest of actions. It was like stubbing a toe, didn't matter who you were, or how tough you are, that, shit, Hurt! But back to the business at hand. He gives the appendages one last stretch, all the way out. Pulling up his semblance he cheats the initial takeoff. Why bother with that when you could save energy? It's like exercising a muscle, after all. The more you use a semblance the easier it gets and the more things you can learn to do with it.

Carus launches himself forward with a blast of air further disturbing the papers and other garbage on the road. All the same he still has limits to his speed. He can't go faster than 60 MPH (96.5 KPH for you metric users), yet that is by no means an inconsiderate amount of speed. It's plenty when you need to get somewhere quickly. Like to the set of opaque glass doors the rider of the motorcycle seems to have gone through.

It takes him little enough time to reach the doors, and he thrusts his wings out to kill his speed, activating his semblance as well for good measure. A shockwave of wind slams into the doors, cracking the glass slightly. Carus shrugs his shoulders, pulling his wings up to his back. Time for some composure. The doors slide open as he strolls forward. 'Must be reinforced against huntsman' Carus idly thinks. A wave of blare techno greets his ears as the doors part, and Carus cringes visibly. Not his favorite genre. Steeling his ears (and nerves) against what lies before him he continues into the building. Coincidently it so happens to be The Club. Car us feels confused. "How? You know what I won't question it. Saves me a headache." Strobe lights assail his eyes, and little pieces of confetti are flying around like a swarm of Rapier wasps. A huge crowd of people are all jumping around to the rhythm on a large square dance floor in the middle of the floor. Guys in red-and-black themed suits are all over the place. 'Either they're security or this place is being held hostage by a gang of poorly dressed businessmen.' A glance around shows the person he followed here is not to be seen.

…

Well it's a club, right? Should he try to dance some? Get a drink? Can he even dare to begin his Trial of Alcohol? Who would even tell the tribe of his success (or failure)? Carus has no idea what to do. Now that he thinks about it. 'I don't even know what they looked like. Might have been a man or a woman. At that distance I couldn't tell the difference.' He sighs. Drink it is. Glancing over to the left side of the establishment he sees a long bar with more bottles than there are people in his clan-group. Might as well start there. As he begins walking over a hand grabs his left wing. He whirls around, a hand coming to rest on his left sword. "None of that now, eh kid?" Several eyes meet his. "Mentor! I found you! And you're not drunk." He exclaims.

"No, I'm not." He stumbles a little. "Buzzed however, sure. Follow me lad. I have a seat saved for you at the bar. It's high time you tried your first booze." Carus' face scrunches up, sharp features drawn out. "Are you sure that's wise? For me to take my Trial of Alcohol" "Not at all. It's down right stupid. And likely to be the last fun you'll have before you get to Beacon you daft boy. So, it's mandatory." Carus slumps in defeat. A decent enough way to disguise his eagerness as any. There is no reasoning with his mentor when he gets like this besides. "That's what I like to see. You've finally learned to not argue with me. Only took ya near two years. Beside there are some old associates of mine here that you should meet."

They start walking over to the bar. "Who did you want me to meet? More to the point why would you introduce us here of all places? I can barely hear myself think." Vetus grins manically. "The owner here and I go way back lad. I knew him when he was but a babe in diapers." They both stop suddenly. Instincts honed by years on the road say don't go another foot forward. Those instincts prove correct as a huge man slams through one of the pillars on the dance floor below, only to land directly in front of them. Carus look at the man. He hears his mentor facepalm. Loudly. "Was this?" "Yes. Carus, this is Hei Xiong. Otherwise known as Junior. He's an info broker for most of Vale."

A massive crowd of screaming people none of whom have any real depth, flee the establishment. The suited men move against the current towards a person in the middle of the dance floor. Another body flies past them as they begin to walk over to the bar. "Should we help them?" Carus asks seeing what are indeed confirmed as thugs, getting tossed about all over the place. They amounted to little more than fodder to the blond girl in the middle of the dance floor. "Only if they get in our way."

Carus shrugs. He doesn't see a problem with this idea. Those guys are paid to deal with stuff like this. *THUD* A body flies into the wall in front of them, the impact crater making sure the poor sod is going to be stuck in the wall for a while. A thought strikes him suddenly. "Do those guys have aura?" Vetus pauses. His face contorts just slightly. "Not sure. However, knowing how cheap Hei can be sometimes… Shit. Oh Shit!" He rushes over to the man impacted into the wall. Checking him over for injuries he seems fine much to the Spider Faunus' relief. Aside from a broken aura and an absolutely shattered ego that is. The music shifts. "And there goes the DJ. Why he thought a gun would help I'll never know." Vetus looks over to the upraised podium on which the music was broadcast from. His eyes get a twinkle.

"Carus?" Vetus states calmly. "Yes mentor?" "Distract her for a bit, would you? I am going to try and end this before she wrecks the whole place. I do like it here after all." Carus nods. He then blitzes forward crashing through one of the last remaining glass pillars around the dance floor. He hovers over the ground, wings flapping to steady himself. Twins in red and white stare him down. "Do we need to teach you a lesson too?" "Was breaking the glass really necessary?" Carus shrugs. "My mentor told me to keep her busy. Count me as an ally in this exchange." He motions over to the blond. Now that he is close he can finally get a good look at her. Long blond hair the color of honey, reaching down her back. His gaze is drawn magnetically to her upper torso. 'Good genes.' He shakes his head at his discretion. Her outfit! It seems to be designed in a way to distract her opponents with her figure. It's effective. Too effective.

"By the elders! Put some clothes on! Didn't your mother ever teach you about modesty?!" In many other situations this might have been effective at least as a momentary distraction. Perhaps they would pause their assault and look themselves over, giving Carus time for a sneak attack. In the case of Yang Xiao Long, this was the worst possible thing one could say. Carus watches in morbid fascination as she seems to explode. No like literally explode. Her hair catches fire, lilac eyes turn a brilliant red, and a fist appears before his face before he can think to dodge.

He has enough time to blink, his aura flaring at the point of impact, only just in time to protect his nose from being turned into pulp. Carus is sent flying back only for her to seem to shift above him. Another fist slams down into his chest, a concussive blast amplifying it with red dust, most likely Burn. The air wheezes out of his lungs as the ground shudders with his impact. A small, weak and vulnerable sound of regret is heard leaking from his diaphragm. The twins look at each other, then back at the blond. Then they look at the armored man lying broken in a crater in the floor. They look back at each other once more. The one in teal says one thing. "Nope." They both hurry off. Carus looks up at a heart shaped face with rage in its eyes. He gasps "No mom references, got it." Pulling up his semblance he pushes as if she were the ground.

The blond flies back off Carus and lands a few feet away. He pulls himself up from the crater with the same technique but applied to the ground. He settles himself down standing. Carus relaxes his stance and bows to her. Rising he speaks, "First blood to you," as he spits out a globule of life's essence onto the ground. "As such my name, freely given to you, whom I dub worthy foe. I am Carus Greyling, of the Tribe and Clan of Greyling. And you are?"

The blonde's eyes coloration seems to fall back to their primary shade of purple. "Uh, Yang? Xiao Long that is." she stammers out. 'What's with this guy?' "Can we get back to fighting? You kind of ruined the mood, and I need to pound your face in." "But of course. Do people not introduce themselves when they fight each other here in the kingdoms?" He draws his hooked swords from the sheathes on his thighs. "Odd. Well a good fight to you then!" Yang still looks mildly confused until Carus rushes her. He slashes in with one blade, only for it to be blocked with an armored fist. The other swings from below and the other side only for it to be blocked by the other gauntlet. Carus eyes sharpen and he headbutts her. They part and she whirls back spinning with an elbow to his chest, and he replies with a bash from bladed guard of his right sword to her shoulder.

Carus lets loose a laugh. He whirls forth swinging with measured strikes always at varying angles, never two from the same vector. The other blond blocks them all. Her hair glows anew with a fiery light. She replies with a barrage of slugs from her gauntlets, the burning shotgun rounds catching Carus off guard. He takes to the air flapping his wings making broken glass fly across the room. He puts a sword away to grab a vial attached to his belt. Pulling the stopper, he lets the wind dust scatter. Calling upon his aura to shape the effect he makes a cyclone of wind and broken glass. The sharp edges scream in the air and he sends the cyclone toward Yang. Its strong enough that it picks the girl up into the air, the glass causing constant minor damage to her aura. Now! Carus flies straight up to the ceiling and hooks his blades into the top of the building. That should be enough time, right?

He looks around the room, shadows not meaning much for the natural night vision of a Fuanus. His mentor seems to be checking the guy in the DJ's stand. He picks him up shakes him a bit and seeing no response shrugs. Vetus drops the bear-headed DJ He begins messing with the machines until he seems satisfied. He looks up to where Carus is hanging and gives him a thumbs up. Carus' eyes widen until they nearly look like his brother-in-law's. (Owl Fuanus) He lets go of his blades and covers his ears.

* * *

-MINI BREAK-

* * *

Yang pulls herself off the ground. That tornado thing with the glass hurt. It was clever, but it hurt. This bird guy is getting on her nerves! He won't sit there long enough for her to get in a good hit. On the other hand, he doesn't seem to have a ranged option so that's good. Now where did that punk who'd dared to bring up her mother go?! Yang looks around. "Where'd you go?"

" **OI!"** A massive wave of sound screams out of the speakers on all sides of her, battering her eardrums. **"SIMMER DOWN LASS! IF I HAVE TO DRAG MY OLD ASS DOWN THERE AND TEACH YOU TO RESPECT YOUR ELDERS, YOU'LL WISH YOU NEVER LEFT YOUR BLEEDING CRADLE!** " Yang looks up to the DJ's podium to see an old guy with a terrible combover just standing there. **"STOP NOW BEFORE YOU HURT SOMEBODY! NOT ALL THE MOOKS HAVE AURA, GET IT?!"** She staggers from the sheer volume being thrown out. It's like every speaker in the building was taped to her ears and turned up to 11. Yang shakes her head trying to clear the ringing from it. Realization flashes in front of her eyes. "…" she tries to reply back. The ringing is so loud she can't even hear herself speak. Talk about a semblance.

Vetus looks down at the girl. He may have went a bit overkill with the speakers to boost his semblance. He sighs. Sonic and audio manipulation _sounds_ (HAH!) like a fun ability, but dam if it isn't finicky. 80+ years honing the power and he still can screw it up. Then again, the last time he used it was about a year ago. He starts himself from his musing and looks down at the girl again. He saw what she did to Carus. 'No idea what the boy said but, given her attire… or the real lack of…'

"Carus get down here!" He snaps his fingers, and a sound not unlike a gunshot booms over the room. The young man glides his way down from the ceiling, watching the blond girl in case she does anything else. The two look ready to come to blows again. Carus ready's his sword and the girl settles into a boxer's stance. "None of that! Brothers above you're both behaving like children!" Carus at least has the dignity to look disgruntled. The other one however… "WHAT? I CAN't hear, oh wait ears popped. What was that now?" Vetus drags his hand down his face. Fucking. Teenagers.

"Look here missie," She interrupts "My name is Yang." "Okay Yang then. Why are you destroying this place? I get Junior's an idiot but even he has to talk for about fifteen minutes or so for it to show." Several groans from all across the building sound off various "Yes's" and "Yups"

Vetus turns to look at the Blond. "What?" "Well I wanted to know if this guy had any info on my mom. I heard he was an information broker." "Did he?" Yang shrugs. "I never really found out. He said he didn't know anything." Vetus glares at her. "If junior says he doesn't know anything that means he doesn't know it. Simple as that." "Well I know that now." She huffs.

"But you haven't answered my question. Why did you feel the need to trash the place?" Yang starts to reply only for the music to kick back in suddenly. The lights dim around them, and a spotlight shines down from the ceiling revealing Hei, with a rocket launcher. Everyone turns to look at him. "You're gonna pay for this." The knock to the head from before must have rattled his brain, because he fires the right into the middle of this little dialogue. Multiple rockets Carus jumps right into the air, wings flapping. Yang braces herself, readying a stance. Vetus however…

" **HEI YOU FUCKING MOROOON!"** A yellow hued wave of sonic energy belts out of Vetus mouth. It contacts with the explosive projectiles, detonating them. Junior shakes his head. He looks again at the group before him. His eyes widen dramatically. He drops the launcher and stutters. "Vetus, old friend of mine. I didn't see you there. Let's not do anything rash now? Right? Vetus?" The old spider turns to Yang. Carus floats down. "Lad. Take the girl with you and skedaddle on out, now won't ye? I need to have **WORDS,** with my dear, stupid, god son." Carus nods franticly, and s grabs Yang's arm and begins to pull her towards the doors. She digs her feet into the ground stopping him short. "But I wanna see this." She whines out. "Not everyday when someone besides me gets chewed out."

Carus stopes for a moment trying to decipher her strange metaphor. "If you like being able to hear at all, you would be better off leaving this establishment with me Yang Xiao Long, that is." He reaches out with his semblance and lifts her off the ground. "Eep!" Pulling her with his he jogs over to the doors, miraculously intact despite the moderate carnage to the area. The left door opens without any issue, while the right gets stuck about halfway. "Do you take pride in wanton destruction, Yang Xiao Long, that is?" Yang reaches over and slugs him in the shoulder. She scoffs," My name isn't Yang Xiao Long, that is, okay? Its just 'Yang Xiao Long' okay?" Carus looks back at the floating girl. He releases his semblance and she drops to the ground. Carus smirks to himself. "As you say. I shall now refer to you as 'Just Yang Xiao long from hence forth." She marches up to him and gets in his face. "No, no, no! My name isn't 'Just Yang Xiao Long' Or 'Yang Xiao long, that is'! Just call me yang. Got it 'Cary'?" Carus looks at the young woman, smirk in full view.

A loud sound that could only be called a 'squwee' is heard from across the street. "Oh my gosh! Yang are you on A DATE?" Yang's face turns pale, the fire in her eyes turning to an ashy soup, as if a rain fell upon already dying embers. Carus look past the other blond, noticing that he seems to taller than her. Odd he didn't notice before. Must be because her personality is so… Much. Behind her is a shorter girl in a black dress, with a red cape, and wearing boots. Yang whirls around, her arms gesticulating wildly. "Whoa sis, it's not what it looks like!" Carus' grin grows even bigger. Their faces were only inches apart. From that angle… yeah, he can see why she could come to that conclusion. "Really Yang? Cause it looks like you were gonna start," She leans down and loudly whispers, "Kissing!" Yang marches over to her sister and they start arguing back and forth. 'Should I?' Carus wonders.

'Yes, I do believe I shall. What better way to get back at this girl for preventing my trial of alcohol.' "Well, Yang." Carus begins, laying on his accent thickly. (Vaguely Scottish sounding) Both the girls look over to him as he speaks, "Courtship rites among the Greyling tribe do begin with a hearty brawl. In some cases, anyway." Carus grins slyly and winks. He watches as the blonde's jaw drops open. The other girl who would seem to be her sister, her jaw also drops. "Wait. Were you actually on a real date?! I was just trying to be funny!" Carus watches them argue back and forth as only sisters could until he couldn't hold it in any longer. "HA! Hahaha!" He begins to laugh loudly. "Oh the look on your faces! I might be a tribal from outside the kingdoms, but we do have a sense of humor you know. I can tell we are all going to be good friends! You are going to be going to Beacon, correct?"

Yang looks shocked. "Did you just punk me?" She then grins. "This year is gonna be fun. Yeah I'm going to Beacon, so maybe we end up on the same team. Oh! This is my sister Ruby." She shoves Ruby forward, and she stumbles over her cape. Carus watches as Yang motions toward him. "Go on, make friends." Ruby catches her balance and glares at Yang. She looks back over to the winged Faunus trying to find something to talk about. Her face scrunches up with the effort up "Uhhhhh… Hi?" Yang facepalms. 'Oh dear. Socially awkward it seems. It would be remis of me to mock her. Suppose I'll lead this conversation then.' Carus bows at the waist. "My Name is Carus Greyling, Of the Tribe and Clan of Greyling. I am here in Vale to attend Beacon that I may become a Huntsman. Your name is Ruby, right?"

The girl struggles to find anything to say, her mind stonewalled. "Cool wings?" Carus sighs. 'This, this will be painful, won't it?'

* * *

AN: Break

Name: Yang Xiao Long (Volume 1)

Misc: You all should know what Yang looks like!

Aura Strength Level: 8/10 Manipulation Skill lv. [Derived] 3/15

Handedness: Right

Physical Strength: A

Speed: C+

Agility: B (B+ when using Gauntlets to add Z-Axis Combat tactics)

Durability [derived, merged old scale systems of Defense and Endurance]: A-

Tactical mind: C-

Semblance: Kinetic Energy Absorption and Redirection

As far as scaling goes this is about how I see Yang in Volumes 1-3. She doesn't seem to use any extra form of combative tactics aside from CQC, and midrange shotgun blasting everything in sight. She is very adaptable in this style that she has, but her anger leads her to rash and overly aggressive actions. (i.e. her fights with Neo and Adam). She isn't my favorite character, and I don't really have a least favorite. Any other info I won't change on the character, and I hope that my representation of Yang and Ruby is true to form.

I said this would be up way before but stuff happens and my creativity got stumped. This story is much harder than 'The New Remnant Ostracon' to write because the main cast are such defined Characters, and I feel that it would be a dis-service to not portray them as well as I can. Hope this warrants the delay (I know it doesn't, but since when have all bu the best on this sight consistently delivered on deadlines?) Drop a follow if you like the story, and review if you want. I'd like to hear some feedback on what people think so far. Till next time folks!


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